Objects of Pleasure
Objects of Pleasure

This translucent dinner table had been thrown away, it reminded me of when I was feminine.

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 I installed atop of it the silicone mammary implants that were inside me for 8 years.  _  _  _

I installed atop of it the silicone mammary implants that were inside me for 8 years.

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 What does it mean to decant dairy? The prosthetics cradled a raw beef patty which oozed and stank in July’s end, from red to brown as Camille’s flowers wilted and Sam’s limbless torso waited patient-ly.  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _

What does it mean to decant dairy? The prosthetics cradled a raw beef patty which oozed and stank in July’s end, from red to brown as Camille’s flowers wilted and Sam’s limbless torso waited patient-ly.

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the show that got shit
the show that got shit

the actions - I was invited to participate in an installation taking place in a bathroom. I was to make objects again. a toilet seat + medicine cabinet. for the past years it was mostly porn, poems, and performance. I came in one morning to install. the gallery owner was cordial. she did not ask questions about me. next day I was told the gallery would take 50% of sales and encouraged to raise the prices on my pieces. the curated loo is a side installation to the main show on view in the gallery- large abstract paintings by Richard Hoblock.

 I was having a cigarette at the back of the gallery with Casey, the artist who curated the bathroom. I noticed round tables set for dinner. white tablecloths + wine glasses. “they are having a dinner party for the opening, I was not invited.” said Casey. and then there was nOiSe. the art dealer in tears.

I was having a cigarette at the back of the gallery with Casey, the artist who curated the bathroom. I noticed round tables set for dinner. white tablecloths + wine glasses. “they are having a dinner party for the opening, I was not invited.” said Casey. and then there was nOiSe. the art dealer in tears.

 a girl demonstrating a sign  FUCK YOUR ART megaphones YOUR PRESENCE IS VIOLENCE! it is exciting outside  I ask a boy in a mask what this is about “who’s side are you on?” he inquires  the art dealer inter rupts “do not interact with them. go inside.” she says  I go in and leave through the back door again.   a boy with lip piercing explains- “we are protesting galleries gentrifying our neighborhoods and not giving back to the community or supporting POC. rent prices are going up. we’re not interested in $7 cappuccinos or paintings by white men. we have successfully removed galleries from Boyle Heights including one that this dealer used to run before she moved to Mid City. they used to call the cops on us.”

a girl demonstrating a sign

FUCK YOUR ART megaphones YOUR PRESENCE IS VIOLENCE! it is exciting outside

I ask a boy in a mask what this is about “who’s side are you on?” he inquires

the art dealer inter rupts “do not interact with them. go inside.” she says

I go in and leave through the back door again.

a boy with lip piercing explains- “we are protesting galleries gentrifying our neighborhoods and not giving back to the community or supporting POC. rent prices are going up. we’re not interested in $7 cappuccinos or paintings by white men. we have successfully removed galleries from Boyle Heights including one that this dealer used to run before she moved to Mid City. they used to call the cops on us.”

 Casey comes outside and hands me my backpack. she apologizes. Eva is kicking me out because I am engaging with the protesters. my work will be pulled from the show. a family standing on the sidewalk. a woman questions what’s going on. they live in that block. “If they are complaining about the gallery not giving back they might as well knock on every door in this neighborhood and shame them. I don’t mind the gallery what’s bothering us is all this damn noise.” she says.

Casey comes outside and hands me my backpack. she apologizes. Eva is kicking me out because I am engaging with the protesters. my work will be pulled from the show. a family standing on the sidewalk. a woman questions what’s going on. they live in that block. “If they are complaining about the gallery not giving back they might as well knock on every door in this neighborhood and shame them. I don’t mind the gallery what’s bothering us is all this damn noise.” she says.

 I am smashed by the implications of selling objects in cubes.  objects are heavy, they stink. they cannot perform like my body. my body can pretend like it’s not performing. my body is not mine. my body is not archival.  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _

I am smashed by the implications of selling objects in cubes.

objects are heavy, they stink. they cannot perform like my body. my body can pretend like it’s not performing. my body is not mine. my body is not archival.

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Objects of Pleasure
 I installed atop of it the silicone mammary implants that were inside me for 8 years.  _  _  _
 _  _  _
 What does it mean to decant dairy? The prosthetics cradled a raw beef patty which oozed and stank in July’s end, from red to brown as Camille’s flowers wilted and Sam’s limbless torso waited patient-ly.  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _
 -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -
the show that got shit
 I was having a cigarette at the back of the gallery with Casey, the artist who curated the bathroom. I noticed round tables set for dinner. white tablecloths + wine glasses. “they are having a dinner party for the opening, I was not invited.” said Casey. and then there was nOiSe. the art dealer in tears.
 a girl demonstrating a sign  FUCK YOUR ART megaphones YOUR PRESENCE IS VIOLENCE! it is exciting outside  I ask a boy in a mask what this is about “who’s side are you on?” he inquires  the art dealer inter rupts “do not interact with them. go inside.” she says  I go in and leave through the back door again.   a boy with lip piercing explains- “we are protesting galleries gentrifying our neighborhoods and not giving back to the community or supporting POC. rent prices are going up. we’re not interested in $7 cappuccinos or paintings by white men. we have successfully removed galleries from Boyle Heights including one that this dealer used to run before she moved to Mid City. they used to call the cops on us.”
 Casey comes outside and hands me my backpack. she apologizes. Eva is kicking me out because I am engaging with the protesters. my work will be pulled from the show. a family standing on the sidewalk. a woman questions what’s going on. they live in that block. “If they are complaining about the gallery not giving back they might as well knock on every door in this neighborhood and shame them. I don’t mind the gallery what’s bothering us is all this damn noise.” she says.
 I am smashed by the implications of selling objects in cubes.  objects are heavy, they stink. they cannot perform like my body. my body can pretend like it’s not performing. my body is not mine. my body is not archival.  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _
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Objects of Pleasure

This translucent dinner table had been thrown away, it reminded me of when I was feminine.

_

_

_

_

_

I installed atop of it the silicone mammary implants that were inside me for 8 years.

_

_

_

_

_

_

What does it mean to decant dairy? The prosthetics cradled a raw beef patty which oozed and stank in July’s end, from red to brown as Camille’s flowers wilted and Sam’s limbless torso waited patient-ly.

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

the show that got shit

the actions - I was invited to participate in an installation taking place in a bathroom. I was to make objects again. a toilet seat + medicine cabinet. for the past years it was mostly porn, poems, and performance. I came in one morning to install. the gallery owner was cordial. she did not ask questions about me. next day I was told the gallery would take 50% of sales and encouraged to raise the prices on my pieces. the curated loo is a side installation to the main show on view in the gallery- large abstract paintings by Richard Hoblock.

I was having a cigarette at the back of the gallery with Casey, the artist who curated the bathroom. I noticed round tables set for dinner. white tablecloths + wine glasses. “they are having a dinner party for the opening, I was not invited.” said Casey. and then there was nOiSe. the art dealer in tears.

a girl demonstrating a sign

FUCK YOUR ART megaphones YOUR PRESENCE IS VIOLENCE! it is exciting outside

I ask a boy in a mask what this is about “who’s side are you on?” he inquires

the art dealer inter rupts “do not interact with them. go inside.” she says

I go in and leave through the back door again.

a boy with lip piercing explains- “we are protesting galleries gentrifying our neighborhoods and not giving back to the community or supporting POC. rent prices are going up. we’re not interested in $7 cappuccinos or paintings by white men. we have successfully removed galleries from Boyle Heights including one that this dealer used to run before she moved to Mid City. they used to call the cops on us.”

Casey comes outside and hands me my backpack. she apologizes. Eva is kicking me out because I am engaging with the protesters. my work will be pulled from the show. a family standing on the sidewalk. a woman questions what’s going on. they live in that block. “If they are complaining about the gallery not giving back they might as well knock on every door in this neighborhood and shame them. I don’t mind the gallery what’s bothering us is all this damn noise.” she says.

I am smashed by the implications of selling objects in cubes.

objects are heavy, they stink. they cannot perform like my body. my body can pretend like it’s not performing. my body is not mine. my body is not archival.

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